Dead End
by Kyatto no Edo
Summary: AU . Zuko's an uppity little rich boy with a love of cars and a need for speed. After being kicked out of his home, he runs into Jet, a mechanic. Sparks fly between the two as they bond over muscle cars and underground amateur car racing.
1. Chapter 1

**Dead End**  
_by Kyatto_

**Chapter One**

**~*~**

Ever since he could remember, Zuko had always loved cars. Now that he was of age and had obtained his license, he realized he loved driving even more. Perhaps it was in his blood. His father, Ozai, ran a multi-billion dollar enterprise due to the fact his company owned several major car manufacturers. All his life they had surrounded him. The house he grew up in had three garages – one of them dedicated to housing the old muscle cars his father was fond of. While he did appreciate the classics, Zuko was fonder of the modern speed demons. The love of his life was his jet black Mercedes-Benz SLG McLaren. With the money his father had given him he had it tricked out to all the top specifications. It had what was most likely the worst fuel economy in existence, but why should he care? It was able to reach amazing speeds, and to Zuko that was what truly mattered with his cars.

Of course now Zuko had to be more careful about emptying the gas tank. A few months ago he had gotten into an accident at the hands of a drunk driver. Major complications at home occurred because of it, and he was sent to live with his uncle in the boonies. Iroh was the opposite of Ozai. He drove a small, plain, efficient vehicle; lived in a small house in a cozy neighborhood. His doctorate from the university was wasted on him with his current job as a teashop owner. If he wanted to he long ago could have branched out and had a business to rival Starbucks – but he had no delusions of grandeur. Iroh was happy with his simple life and hoped to teach Zuko how to appreciate it. It brought him much frustration that after his shifts at his shop (which he required of his nephew in order to pay for the hideous fuel bills he ran up) the first thing he did was zoom off in that fancy car of his. The boy had a one-track mind and it was focused on nothing other than speed.

Zuko could not help but feel sorry for his car, which he felt was unappreciated by the suburban streets he was forced to drive through. A fifty-miles-per-hour limit was like torture to him. Especially since he could easily do three times that and keep full control. With his status ripped from him it wasn't as if he could demand a secluded place to drive around either. For weeks he traveled the town, trying to find some spot unoccupied that he could take over and set himself free. The itch to slam on the gas pedal was stronger each day. He felt that if he went any longer he would go insane.

One day while driving into the outskirts he came across what appeared to be an abandoned track. The asphalt was worn and cracked with grass and weeds poking through. It looked to be a good mile or so around and that was good enough for Zuko. As luck would have it, a local garage was nearby. Certainly nothing would happen to his car on an empty track but it was still too convenient to not notice. After making sure the gate wasn't locked and no one was around he drove in and set himself up in the center. He popped up the emergency break and adjusted his rear-view mirror. Taking a deep breath, he got a good whiff of the sweet scent of the leather interior. Once in his zone- he shifted to drive, gripped the wheel, and slammed his foot on the gas.

As if expressing its delight at actually being _driven_, the car accelerated in record time. Barely a quarter of the way along his first lap his car reached sixty. Halfway through he was nearing ninety. By the time he entered his second lap the speedometer read one-twenty. _This_ was what driving was supposed to be. Once he felt familiar with the curves of the track and didn't have to focus as much, Zuko rolled down the windows so he could _feel_ his speed. The wind tousled his shaggy dark hair and made his face tingle. Zuko could hear his car roar as it whipped around the way it was designed for. To him his car wasn't a tool or a silly machine, it had desires and personality all its own. He could practically feel both its relief and excitement at being allowed to tear up the track reaching speeds of nearly one-fifty. The gas meter was dipping well below the half-full point and he couldn't care less.

The sound of a roaring engine and the sharp screech of breaks that cars only made when they took turns way too quickly was what distracted Jet from the car he was working on. An older gentleman had brought in his Ford Taurus for an oil change and inspection. As it turned out, there were a few loose wires and some leaks but Jet was more than happy to fix them at no extra charge. He loved cars inside and out. So it was a pleasant surprise to hear the sound of a car actually being driven. The only time he ever heard that was when he took his 1970 Dodge Charger to the abandoned track at night. Who would think to whip around such a sacred place?

He wheeled out from under the Taurus and wiped the grease off his forehead with the back of his arm. His tight burgundy wife-beater was badly stained, as were his loose-fitted ragged jeans. He wiped his hands off with a rag and casually jogged over to the edge of the property to get a good view of what was going on. He expected it to just be some silly high school kid trying out their new Camry. What he saw instead nearly took his breath away. The sight of the gorgeous shining black McLaren roaring around the track like it owned it sent jolts of happy electricity throughout his body. _Damn_, that was one fucking gorgeous car. The only other time he saw such a thing of beauty it was being driven by some preppy tool that attended some nearby private academy. Of course, such a sleaze didn't even know how to properly handle something so precious. However, whoever was behind the wheel this time _definitely_ knew what they were doing.

The speed was fairly consistent. He didn't have the right tools on him, but Jet could guess the driver was clocking well above a hundred. Each turn was precise and no hair out of place. It was a stark contrast to how he handled it, for he was so into it he was often reckless. As he observed he noticed some of the driver's quirks. Every so often, when he appeared adventurous, he would drift a little on a turn. Not enough to risk going off track but it was definitely a skill worth showing off, a move very stylish and practiced. The only time Jet had seen someone pull moves like that was during a race. It pleased him greatly to see someone do their best to get their car to live up to its potential. The McLaren, while not a beast like his Charger, could definitely hold its own on the road. They were built for both comfort and speed – so long as the driver was able to handle it properly. It had a supercharger compressor for fuck's sake! Just watching this guy drive entranced him greatly. He was amazing. Who was he?

Jet stepped closer until he was able to grip the chain-link fence enclosing the track. Without a second thought he climbed it and hopped over the top. He could feel the asphalt vibrating beneath his feet. Why did cars have to be so amazing? He continued to watch from the sidelines for a few minutes until he could tell the driver was getting ready to slow down. As careful as he had been during his little speed-fest, he was in no hurry to reach zero all that quickly. Jet found that trait to be rather admirable. Though it was obvious the man was impatient, as least he was considerate enough not to confuse his poor car by hitting the brake too forcefully and too soon.

When he was getting ready to call it a day, Zuko noticed someone scale the fence and get onto the track. At first he was worried the guy was there to stop him, but the feeling soon vanished when he realized he was only there to watch _him_. It filled him with confidence to know he was skilled enough to impress somebody. He had been practicing drifting his turns for months. It felt damned good to give his car such a workout. Perhaps now the rest of the week at work would be less unbearable. Satisfied, once he was able to park he stepped out and went over to greet his audience.

"Hey, do you know where the nearest station is?"

"A bit farther up on the boulevard," Jet replied, pointing to the road. "Not too far. I'm sure you'll make it."

"Thanks," Zuko nodded.

"Can I just say that I'm rather impressed by what you just did?" Jet grinned, feeling no need to hide his giddiness upon finding such a skilled driver. "Are you some sort of professional?"

"Nah," the other teen shrugged. "I just love my car is all. She deserves to be taken out on the town once in a while."

"I'll bet! Though I find it hard to believe someone who can clock such speeds with that much control _and_ drift their turns is an amateur. At least you race or something, right?"

"Race? Me? No way. I told you, I just love the car. And I love driving. Just doing what I enjoy."

"My name's Jet," Jet's hand shot out right in front of Zuko. "I work at the shop over there. When I heard you tear this shit up I had to investigate. You're incredible."

"…Li," Zuko lied, not wanting to ruin his new good reputation by admitting himself as a failed heir. He took his hand in a loose shake. "And thanks. So, you like cars too? What do you drive?"

Jet shrugged. "Nothing as fancy as you. Just a 1970 Charger. She's beautiful though, and has quite a kick to her. She takes to this track much like yours does."

"Don't knock your Charger!" Zuko frowned. "Those things were amazing during their time. I bet she's pretty incredible too. You should take her out sometime so we can compare."

"I was about to suggest the same, myself," Jet nodded with a smile. "You're not too bad either. I take it you got your scar from some epic driving, right?"

Zuko wasn't sure how to reply to that. Few people ever deliberately pointed out his scar, and it was never positive. He was still rather sensitive and insecure about it. The accident was not a pleasant experience, nor a memory he enjoyed recalling. "Eh…Something like that, I guess."

"Awesome!" Jet patted him on the shoulder. "Don't feel too bad. I've got a few myself, just not in places you can see them. I don't mind. Things like that build character, you know?"

"Thanks…I guess," Zuko shrugged sheepishly.

Jet then reached into his pocket and pulled out a joint and a lighter. He started smoking pot several years ago and had no desire to quit. Few things helped calm his racing heart after a good drive that way that stuff did. He lit it quickly and after taking a deep drag he offered it to Zuko. "Want a hit?"

Months ago, Zuko would have immediately refused. Good guys with a future in a big business had no time or need for such toxins. But Zuko was a different guy now, and Jet felt he had character. What helped character more than doing something bad every now and then? "Sure."

Jet watched as Zuko appeared trying to resist hesitation as he took the joint from his fingers and held it up to his lips. It was obvious he was a former "good boy". He could tell by the unsteady grasp and the shallow inhale. The good ones were always unsure and unconfident. He found that trait to be cute in a way. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm alright," Zuko coughed as he passed it back to Jet. Within the minute he could feel heat building up in the pit of his stomach and spread to the rest of his body. It turned into a light, fuzzy feeling and he found it to be enjoyable. Why didn't he try that stuff before? "It's not bad."

"Couple of my buddies, Longshot and Smellerbee, grow this shit in their backyards. They give it to me for free in exchange for pimping their rides. Not too bad a deal, yeah?"

"I've always been told doing this crap meant death. But you don't seem to be suffering too badly…"

"Don't believe everything the hags in schools and on TV tell you. Shit's ten times safer than alcohol, yet those same asses are out at clubs and bars on weekends, getting hammered and doing each other's spouses. It's a fucked up world."

Zuko nodded in agreement. "Glad I ran into you."

"Yeah," Jet smiled. "You're new around here, yeah? Perhaps I ought to show you around sometime. Show you the best places to drive around and where all the good stations are."

"I'd like that, thanks."

"By the way…" Jet looked thoughtful. The idea came to him when he took a moment to remember just how talented Li was on the track. It may not have been the best idea, but it was worth mentioning. What could it hurt? "This town is known for underground racing. I take a few laps myself, and help out with pit crew. There's a pre-race party this Saturday. Want to go with me? As much as I'd like to see you fuck some shit up with that McLaren, it'd be nice just to hang with the rest of the crew too."

Zuko blinked in surprise. The only parties he had been to had been the fancy boring kind his father hosted. What was there to do at a party for people other than suits? All he had to go by were cheesy teen movies…and those definitely didn't involve fans of fast cars. However, Jet appeared honest and sincere. Would he suggest something dangerous? Probably not. With as a casual a shrug as he could muster, Zuko nodded. "Alright. Could be cool. What's it take to get a race in?"

"You just have to give them your name and they'll let you know via text message when and where they are. However, if you give any of that shit away, they'd eat you alive. So I don't think a good guy like you would be cut out for that sort of thing, you know?"

"I know the whole 'snitches get stitches' shit, I'm not an idiot," Zuko frowned. "Try me. I want to race."

"You serious?" Jet looked pleasantly surprised. "I'll let the Ace know and see what we can manage. You'll definitely have to come to party with me then to meet everyone. And bring your girl. I'm sure they'll all want to check out her specs and see just how good of a handler you are."

"Count me in," Zuko smirked and the two guys gave each other a firm handshake.

**~*~**

To be continued…

**~*~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Dead End**  
_by Kyatto_

**Chapter Two**

~*~

It was late – well past eleven at night. Zuko came in from the door that led to the garage and stepped into the den. Iroh was seated on the battered yet comfortable sofa in a robe, drinking a cup of tea and reading the newspaper. He watched as his nephew padded across the room to drop his keys in the glass bowl set aside for them. Sometimes the older man thought about taking those keys while the boy was in bed but thought better of it. As flashy as the car was, and as unnecessary as all the trimmings it had were, it was still his nephews car and the only thing that really still reminded him of his home. Iroh felt he was a lot like Ozai in a way, once he had the money the boy's father was never without a "nice" car either. Of course if he ever said that to Zuko he would get the earful of a lifetime.

"It's almost midnight, nephew," Iroh said quietly as he watched Zuko pull off his thick-soled Oakley tactical boots. Despite his brash attitude, the boy was still considerate enough to keep things neat and organized, including keeping his boots by the front door and off the rugs. "Where have you been?"

"Oh…Um…" Zuko shrugged and sheepishly rubbed the back of his shoulder. "Just out driving around, you know? If you stayed up for me, I'm sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Iroh finally smiled warmly and motioned for his nephew to join him on the couch. "I was just up reading the paper. Bands of drug dealers and all that keep getting caught passing through, and I like to keep an eye on who comes into the shop."

"Can't blame you," Zuko nodded in agreement and flopped back on the sofa in such a way that he was leaning on the armrest with his feet propped over the back. "Oh, and Uncle, I filled up the car on my way home today."

"How much was it, nephew?" He couldn't help the worrying tone in his voice as his brows knit.

"Eh…" The boy was a terrible liar. Right away he got small and sheepish. "About…A hundred….or so?"

"A _hundred_? Zuko!" Iroh rubbed his temple in frustration. "The Olds takes maybe fifty if I empty it out completely. What are you _doing_ to rack up such a bill?"

"But Uncle!" Zuko protested, trying to fight the urge to pout in annoyance. "You know it only takes Premium and that shit's expensive!"

"Nephew, _language_," Iroh chastised. "I know Ozai blessed with you with that fancy contraption and it does require its share of spoiling, but I'm not exactly rolling in gold like he is. You know that. We did agree that you would work to pay for it, but what you just spent was a week's paycheck, I do hope you are aware of this, nephew."

"I understand," Zuko sighed. "Perhaps I should've conserved a bit more when I was out. I kind of…found this track and drove around it a bit."

"You do love that thing, don't you?" Uncle smiled in amusement and patted his nephew affectionately on the arm. "I doubt your father taught you this, but having a car, especially one as nice as yours, is a lot of work and responsibility. Very much like keeping a child. Sometimes it takes more than love to get it to do what you want."

What Uncle said made Zuko feel slightly uncomfortable. When he was a kid his cousin and Iroh's son, Lu Ten, was a police officer and got killed while working a major drug bust. Since his "banishment" from his father's estate, Iroh immediately took to Zuko and thought of him like another son. He knew he was loved very much and probably did do things against Iroh's wishes. It was still a lot to get used to in comparison to the lavish lifestyle he once lived. Iroh cared about him to the end of the universe, while Ozai barely cared at all.

"I'm sorry Uncle," the boy nodded. "I'll be a bit more considerate."

"That's all I ask," Iroh replied and casually went back to his newspaper. "Do anything else while you were out?"

"I kind of met this one guy down at the track," Zuko shrugged and looked up at the ceiling distractedly. "He was pretty cool I guess."

Iroh lit up at this. Zuko had never been all that sociable. It was a wonder that he had a girlfriend at one time. "That's wonderful! When's he coming over for dinner?"

"_Uncle_…" Zuko groaned and hid his face behind a throw pillow he picked up off the floor. "I just talked to him a bit and got his number."

"Friends are good to have, nephew," Iroh told him. "So long as you don't tally up another big bill, I suggest you go out and meet him again."

"I will," Zuko shrugged and shifted in his seat. "He wants me to go to this one party coming up. I just have to find out when it is."

"You do that."

An hour later, Zuko was getting ready for bed when he heard a familiar buzzing. He bent over and reached into the pocket of the jeans he just slipped out of and pulled out his Sidekick. _ 'Speak of the devil…'_ It was a text message from Jet:

**Hey man, you make it back ok?**

Zuko couldn't help but smirk. That guy was really something. On the other side of the coin, Zuko usually waited a couple of days before calling or messaging anyone he had just met. But if Jet wanted to play this game, he was more than happy to oblige.

**Sure did. Dropped 140 in gas on the way though. **

All he got back was: **OUCH.**, and then a minute later: **You loaded or something, dude? Fuck, DUDE!**

Zuko shrugged and quickly typed: **Used to be. I'll tell you about it later.**

Despite Jet's urgent '**???!**' response, Zuko closed his phone and set it up to charge. He really didn't feel like explaining what had happened, especially to someone he had only met that afternoon. It as a long and complicated story, and it was one he didn't like to recall anymore. The only person who really 'got it' was his uncle. That was only because out of everyone in the world, Iroh knew Ozai since the day the man was born. So what had happened, while it shocked the hell out of the press and his friends and family, did not faze the old man in the slightest. He shrugged it off as Ozai being Ozai and took Zuko under his care, no further questions asked. However, it had a lasting impact on Zuko. He could never look at a bottle of Jean-Marc XO or a LeBlanc Mirabeau again without wanting to kill himself.

He pulled off his shirt and flopped back on his futon in nothing more than his burgundy satin boxers. It had a gold-colored snake-like dragon embroidered on one side. He reached for his stuffed turtleduck, which was a gift from his mother when he was a toddler, and tucked it under one arm. Even as a kid he knew creatures that were part turtle and part duck didn't exist, but it reminded him of the turtles and ducks that lived in the pond in the gardens behind the house- so it quickly became a prized possession. Years later, it still suffered a great deal of love. The plush fabric lost its softness long ago, and one button used for an eye was a different color from the other – a result of a fight he had gotten into with his sister that resulted in her pulling it off and chucking it at his head. The toy along with his car served of the very few reminders he still had of his family and growing up. Detaching himself from his past was proving to be very difficult.

Meanwhile, Jet on the other hand had left the mechanic shop that day after finishing the Taurus, and immediate went home to fix dinner. He had two mouths to feed. After his parents died in a fire set to his home during the middle of a heated gang war when he was eight, a family friend had taken him in. He was a mechanic, with the nickname "Pipsqueak" and pretty much taught Jet everything he knew about cars. The man became an idol to him in a way. So when he got full custody of the son he had out of wedlock, affectionately called "The Duke", Jet had taken to treating the kid like a baby brother. They quickly became a tight-knit family and Jet was very loyal to them. However, due to Pipsqueak's demanding schedule, Jet tended to take care of the household activities such as cooking dinner, cleaning, and looking after The Duke. He didn't mind it, and often felt it was a way to help him feel normal. Like he had a purpose. Like he wasn't some orphaned delinquent.

Jet couldn't remember exactly when he first got into weed. Way back in high school, probably. However, he made a bargain with himself. It ended with the herb. When he went to raves, parties and races, people hit up heroin and crack left and right. He made damn sure to never be a part of that scene. His not-so-secret pot addiction was a bad enough influence on The Duke, he didn't need to be any worse. He couldn't get away from it, though. The smoke was like a ticket to another world. It helped him relax and feel safe within his own mind. Why do anything else when something so natural was just so perfect? He had absolutely no respect for the hardcores.

A note was on the fridge when he got in the house from Pipsqueak saying he was going to be running late. Used to this, Jet set to work to prepare a pot of macaroni and cheese for himself and The Duke. Once he made sure the pot would not explode if left unattended, he went down to the basement to find the boy contentedly playing his Xbox. The kid was used to hours alone, as both his dad and Jet worked during the day. He was a good kid though, stayed home once he got out of school, played a lot of video games. Jet wanted to keep it that way. At that age he was out on the streets with other kids wreaking havoc. While those days weren't over, they served a bit more of a purpose. He was more of a party guy now instead of just a miscreant.

"Jet!" The Duke squealed excitedly when he saw Jet come down the steps.

"'Need for Speed: Underground'? Nice," Jet grinned when he recognized the game on the screen.

"I'm almost on the last race," The Duke beamed. "I'm totally going to beat your score!"

"I bet," Jet nodded, genuinely interested in what the kid was up to. "You're really good with those games."

"Hours of practice!" The boy's chest puffed up haughtily. "You'd be as good too if you were home more."

"Sorry about that, buddy," Jet frowned and gently took the boy's hand. "I just get a lot of work now. Come on up, the mac n' cheese is almost done…"

"You're _always_ working," The Duke whined as the scampered up the steps. "Even on weekends! Don't you ever get a break?"

Jet chewed his lip. His excuse for everything, even his party habits, was "work". While he didn't like lying, he knew he had to. The Duke couldn't follow him to the shop. It would be detrimental to both of them if he showed up at a race. "I'll try to ask for one."

"You'd better," The Duke pouted and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table.

"Here," Jet said as he spooned out a good helping into a bowl. "It's a little hot…"

"I found something weird today," The Duke announced in between bites of food.

"Oh?" The older boy quirked a brow and idly scraped his fork around his bowl. "What was it?"

"I don't know," The Duke shrugged. "It was out on the back patio. Put it outside your room. It's a really funny shape and smells like burnt leaves…"

Shit. The kid found a bong. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? "It's a uh…Hm. It's a mosquito catcher! Yeah! I have a couple of those things around. Mosquitoes get bad this time of year, y'know?"

"Oh!" The Duke brightened, obviously believing him. "That's really smart of you!"

"You know it!" Jet grinned. Thank the spirits it worked. Now he would have to be more careful about where he left his stuff though.

Later that night after putting The Duke to bed, Jet scampered off to his room. It was a known rule that his room was off limits to everyone in the house. He needed his space, and people respected it. Pipsqueak even put in a doorknob that required a key to unlock it. Jet was very grateful for this, especially now that he was checking out drivers and working with dealers. He helped Longshot and Smellerbee get the dough for their buds and all that. It would be hell if anyone knew what he got up to. However, his room was his sanctuary. He had a very comfortable waterbed for starters. A waterbed that he felt begged to be used by two people and not just one. He also had his computer that was overloaded with music sitting on an old handmade oak desk. Four large speakers stationed in different parts of the room were attached to it. There was also an MP3 player dock station alarm clock on his nightstand, his dresser (which was fairly empty compared to the floor), and his TV. The walls had cracks and chips in the paint and the ceiling had suffered from major water damage. He tried to hide it by adorning every last inch of space with black lights, strobes, different kinds of posters, and all sorts of drug paraphernalia. It wasn't perfect but it was his space.

He checked his Motorola RAZR for messages. A couple of texts from Smellerbee inviting him over to smoke to some Korobase with her and Longshot. There was one from his ex-girlfriend, Katara, reminding him to stay a good ten feet away from her at all times at the upcoming party. As if it wasn't already blatantly obvious they ended on a very bad note. The rest were from various customers all thanking him for the great job he did on their cars and what a sweet and charming young man he was and all that jazz. _Sigh._ It occurred to him then, that perhaps he should check in with that Li guy he met earlier. Just to make sure he got back to his place in one piece. A guy with a ride that sweet probably got into his fair share of trouble.

After a couple of texts and then nothing, Jet got the feeling Li wasn't much of a talker. Alright, he could feel that. But did the guy have to be so damned enigmatic? All he knew now was that at one time he was loaded, but apparently he isn't anymore. Yet he still has that smoking hot car. But blowing over a hundred on gas was like a punch to the gut. What was it with that guy? However, Jet was hopeful by the fact he said he'd tell him about it later. "Later" meant that they would probably be hanging out again. Jet approved of this. Despite the quirks, Li was a pretty cool guy. If he could just get him to open up a bit then they would both be in the right boat. Now, if they got close enough where Li would let him drive his smoking hot McLaren _that_ would be pretty fucking sweet. But Jet had to keep his priorities straight…

Which started by sending Li the official invite to the Blue Dragon – the first major pre-race party of the season.

**~*~**

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Dead End**  
_by Kyatto_

**Chapter Three**

~*~

The Blue Dragon – named after a famous alcoholic beverage preferred by racing enthusiasts – was unlike any other gathering Zuko had ever attended before. Jet advised him to arrive about twenty minutes late, around when he showed up, so he would be as inconspicuous as possible. It was bad form to draw too much attention to oneself before being properly introduced. Zuko could see why – the place was packed. He had driven a good three hours to get to location that was a decent-sized McMansion on beachfront property. It had its own parking lot and track that wrapped around the premises. The lot itself was laid out like a showroom, where the most popular guys and girls displayed their gleaming prized vehicles. A huge bar stocked with every beverage known to man was on the patio right up against the house. On an empty space on the lot a disk jockey and dance floor was set up. The tiny private beach was bustling with noise and activity. It made Zuko grateful that he wasn't there alone.

His party attire had been carefully chosen. He didn't want to come off as uptight or a total novice to the world. Black was the safest color he could think of. He settled on black denim jeans that hugged his ass and crotch but was loose and comfortable everywhere else, a simplistic black leather belt with a brass buckle, his heavy combat boots, a tight-fitted black tee shirt with an airbrushed Chinese-style white tiger-like creature painted on it, and a beat up black denim jacket. His hair was freshly washed and styled so his bangs swept in front of his scarred eye – again making sure he didn't stand out too much. He was just attending to meet people and observe, not to draw a crowd. Despite his desire to _not_ be a spectacle, he still drew a lot of attention. Many of the young ladies attending and even a few not-so-secretly gay men looked his way appreciatively. If it weren't for the fact he was so built and attractive they might have mistaken him for a poseur and kicked him out.

Jet had arrived only a few minutes before he did and was already getting well acquainted with the bartender. Unlike Zuko, Jet was a lot more laid back about his party attire. Baggy distressed jeans, a Basshunter tee shirt, and beat up sneakers was all he needed. Outside he wore a leather military-style jacket that had seen its fair share of wear and tear. The bartender was a cute pixie-like red-haired woman in her mid-twenties and quite enjoyed Jet chatting her up while she mixed his drink. Jet could talk people into doing anything for him, especially the ladies. Zuko never had any kind of skill in that department.

"Hey, you made it," Jet grinned when Zuko found him and took a seat.

"Told you I would," Zuko shrugged. "This place is packed."

"It's only eleven," Jet smirked. "You should see it at _two_."

"So do you come to these things just to drink or do you actually know anyone?"

"Oh, I know a lot of people!" Jet made an indignant-yet-amused face. "I'll point a few out."

"Alright."

"See over there?" Jet pointed to the DJ booth where the burly man spinning the discs was having an argument clinic with a younger tan boy. He was not really all that tall and a bit lanky. His eyes were a bright blue and his brown hair was pulled up high atop his head. He was in classic mechanic garb- navy blue tank and torn up jeans with boots. "The skinny one. That's Sokka. He's my ex's brother. Not a bad dude, really. He has a great sense of humor. Hates my guts though. The shop where he works at gets all the fancy cars so he can be a little boastful. He came in third place last summer with his Torino."

"Not bad," Zuko nodded, genuinely impressed. "Is your ex here too?"

"Yeah," the other man then motioned his hand towards a beautiful Lexus convertible that was comfortably seating a few girls who were giggling over cocktails. The one he pointed Zuko towards was of an average height and just as tan as her brother, with bright big blue eyes and long wavy brown hair that went down to her rear. She was clad in a cyan sequined halter-top that exposed her midriff and tight-fitting skinny jeans. Around her neck was a choker that definitely appeared to be some kind of handmade heirloom. She was cute, he could see why Jet went out with her. "Her name's Katara. Great girl, really. She's a bit naïve though, and if she doesn't agree with something she goes in over her head to change them."

Zuko glanced at Jet with a raised brow as if awaiting further explanation.

"Fine, fine… Look, she broke up with me because I wouldn't quit smoking. She absolutely hated it and was constantly finding ways to trick me into stopping. It never worked and she gave up. Now she's all over some other guy." Jet then pointed towards a small blue Hyundai Tiburon that had quite a crowd around it – mostly young girls. An older boy who appeared to be about sixteen or so stood in front of it, beaming. He was a bit lean save for his chest and abs, which definitely had some definition to them. Blue arrows were tattooed from his forehead down his back and on his arms. He wore a bright orange hoodie and baggy blue cargo shorts with brown sandals. The boy was all smiles and laughter. "That kid's a fucking driving _prodigy_. He just turned legal this past fall and he's already won a number of championships. All in that little Tiburon too. There's got to be something magical under the hood. Anyway, his name's Aang. Katara's been all over the punk since she dumped me."

"Damn," Zuko nodded. "Can't say I'm not impressed."

"Yeah," Jet sighed and rubbed his temple. The bartender set his drink down in front of him. Jack Daniels mixed with Coke – one of his favorites. "His mechanic's this chick named Toph. Girl's been blind since birth, but builds muscle cars like she had the sight of the gods. I bet it was her who made that ride as awesome as it is."

"Alright, alright, you know people," Zuko smiled briefly. "I think I'll drink something too. What's cool here?"

"You want something blue," Jet grinned and waved the woman over. "Yo. My buddy here will have the Blue Dragon."

"Fuck yeah, bitch!" She smiled eagerly. "Coming right at ya in five."

"I love it when they're energetic," Jet chuckled, his drink now almost gone. "Seriously, you'll love this shit. It'll knock you out pretty quickly though."

"Nah, I'm tough. I can take it." Liar. Zuko could hold alcohol about as well as Iroh could go for a day without tea. It wasn't all that well at all.

"Birthday suit yourself," the other man smirked and patted Zuko on the shoulder. The drink materialized in front of him and Zuko made his best attempt to down most of it in one shot. The cough he emitted from the spike of a nearly lethal amount of Absolut made Jet crack up.

"_Shit_ this is strong," Zuko rasped but took another swig anyway. "I don't mind it, but damn."

"Can't say I didn't warn ya," Jet grinned. "Sure you don't just want a soda or a wine cooler?"

"Told you, I can take it," Zuko replied firmly, a determined look on his face as he motioned to the bartender to refill his drink. The spirits predicted it would only take maybe two more to knock him out. Luckily, he only drank three-quarters of his refill before Jet got his attention.

"Hey, it looks like some hotties are shaking their asses to Tiësto." Jet pointed towards the dance floor where a throng of beautiful scantily-clad and buzzed women, as well as a fair amount of guys trying to get with them, danced together under a sea of strobe lights and flashing multi-colored lasers. "Let's see if we can score a couple."

"I'm not so sure about that…" Zuko grimaced but got up anyway. He wasn't one for hooking up with random girls, especially once alcohol was in his system. Fortunately, he was saved when someone tapped him on the arm.

"Oh! Sorry, I was trying to get that idiot next to you," Katara shook her head and placed a hand on her hip.

"What's up, bitch?" Jet cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to see me."

"I don't," she rolled her eyes. "But I don't want you influencing innocent newbies either." She then turned to Zuko. "Hi, I'm Katara. I haven't seen you around here before. What brings ya here? Please don't tell me this asshole brought you."

"Li," Jet cut Zuko off before he could speak. "We met at the track. He drives a hot ride."

"Do you?" Katara pointedly ignored him.

"Eh, it's just a McLaren…"

"Get the fuck out of here!" Katara squealed. "There was only like, one in this whole city before you showed up. And the guy who has doesn't even treat it right! How the hell did you pull that off? You some new richie too?"

"Eh…Not really. Long story," Zuko shrugged.

"I feel you," she nodded sympathetically. "But you'll definitely have to bring it to a race sometime. I'd love to see you show it off. You any good?"

"This fucker's _amazing_," Jet interrupted again. "He clocks nearly two-hundred."

"Get. The. FUCK. Out!" She gasped loudly. "Do you drift too?"

"Eh…"

"SHIT!" She was nearly about to tackle him to the ground out of glee. "Oh you _must_ take her around. You _have_ to!"

"I totally will," Zuko beamed.

"Oh my gosh, you have to meet my brother and Aang, hold on…." She went off for a couple of minutes and returned with both of them in tow. "You guys, this Li guy has a fucking _McLaren_."

"_Nice!_" Sokka grinned and clapped Zuko on the back. "Fuck yeah! Finally some style is returning to this dump."

Aang was surprisingly quiet. Out of respect for those who lost "battles", nobody dared to mention the scar. But Aang knew. He kept up with the drama going on amongst the car companies. Zuko looked identical to the son Ozai had shafted. The son of the man that was Phoenix Corp. He was supposed to be some kind of maverick car genius. He had been secretly hoping to one day encounter him on the racetrack. Fate seemed to love to give him his blessings.

"Hey," he finally said, offering him a hand. "I'm Aang."

"Li," Zuko shook it. Aang knew he was faking. He couldn't blame him. While few people knew names, the drama in and of itself was well known amongst the car community.

"Gotta hand it to you, Jet," Sokka sighed with look of amusement. "As big of an ass as you are, you know how to find some good people."

"I do try," Jet shrugged with a smug smirk plastered on his face.

"What's goin' on here, fellas?" Toph came strolling over. A mess of black hair was piled high in a thick bun, and she wore a baggy green shirt with even baggier overalls. "You find yourself a boyfriend, Twinkletoes?"

"Hey Toph, this is Zu-…Li," Aang motioned for Zuko to offer her his hand so she could inspect it.

"Hm…" Toph scrunched her face as she felt his hand and wrist. "Very sinuous. Definitely a driver. But the skin is soft. He feels like a Nancy-pants princess." Everyone but Zuko laughed at this.

At the mentioning of Zuko's soft skin, Jet bit his lip. He never noticed before but his skin _was_ pretty soft… _The hell, Jet?_ That wasn't a manly thought at all. Clearly the alcohol was getting to him.

"We'll catch up with you guys later…" Jet gently tugged on Zuko's arm to pull him away. "We're going to go dance and booze and shit."

"Okay then, but don't hog him all night!" Katara frowned. "I want to check out his car before the night's over."

"Can't make any promises!"

"Fucker," Katara muttered when they disappeared into the crowd out of earshot. "Cocky ass."

"That Li guy's good people," Sokka commented. "I can tell."

"Yeah, but I wonder what the hell he's doing with Jet," Katara sighed. "That just screams trouble."

"Don't be too hard on him," Aang shrugged. "Jet should be entitled to new friends."

"I know, but still…" She worried her bottom him. "I can see stoners and drunkards, but a seemingly sweet guy like that? I don't know."

"He could be an asshole," Sokka interjected. "It's not like he said much to us. For all we know they're both laughing at us right now."

"No!" Katara protested. "He's not like Jet at all. I can tell."

"I can tell too," Toph commented serenely.

Meanwhile Jet and Zuko had found their way onto the dance floor and away from the group. After Katara first bumped into them Jet had been desperate to get the guy alone again. Not to mention the alcohol and sugar from his drink was starting to run rampant and he wanted to get it out of his system as quickly as possible. He could tell from the dazed look on Zuko's face as he shifted from side to side that he was feeling the same. A loud techno-trance beat boomed from the speakers and all the dancers were desperate to keep up. Their pulses were racing and sweat started to bead on their skin. The crowd grew and it pushed them closer and closer together. Jet got a good whiff of Zuko's cologne- something spicy. They moved closer and closer together. Every so often Jet's hip would brush against Zuko's thigh and vice versa. Zuko wasn't all that great at dancing and neither was Jet, but the people around them paid no mind to how much they pretended. However, it didn't serve the purpose Jet hoped for. There were too many people and it was too damn hot. Not to mention he was starting to get nauseous from not eating anything before drinking.

"Hey," Jet said when Zuko met his eyes. "Want to hang out in my car for a bit until the alcohol wears off a little?"

Zuko hesitated for a moment and then shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

With a great deal of effort they managed to get away from the people and go around to the other side of the house to the lot where the people with the less fancy cars parked. Jet's black charger with a lime-green racing stripe was off to the side under the shade of a willow tree. The music and the party was a distant hum. He pulled his keys out of his back pocket and opened the doors. It was a little low to the ground, and the fabric seats were bulky so it wouldn't be the most comfortable thing ever. However it sure beat hanging around drunkenly near things that would surely result in an insane migraine.

"Hope you don't mind a little mess," Jet warned as they got in and shut the doors. "I kind of live in this thing, you know?"

"No problem," Zuko shrugged. His car was only clean because his father was anal about it and the habits stuck. "It's pretty cool."

"Yeah?" Jet smiled. He thought his car was cool? Awesome!

"Nothing beats a good classic."

Jet smirked and pushed his seat back a little so he didn't risk pressing against the steering wheel. "She's a really good car. I love her like a woman."

"You should," the other man nodded then glanced at the radio. "You know. That thing doesn't look like it came on the standard model."

"Oh, I put it in last summer. It was too fucking great to pass up. You know what it does?"

"No idea."

"Here," Jet sat up again and put the key in the ignition. He turned it just enough to turn on the electricity so he could show off the radio. "Check it out." He then pressed a button and turned on the MP3 player he attached to its USB port. Soon "raver" music blared from the speakers. After a moment, the lights on the system started changing to every color on the spectrum and flashed to the beat. Zuko had to admit, it was pretty cool.

"Not bad," Zuko commented with a hint of a smirk. "I like it."

"Thanks," Jet nodded. "The music's by this band I found online. They're called Xelya."

"You've got decent taste," this time, Zuko really did let Jet catch him smirk. The alcohol made him loosen up a little. "Put this on CD for me sometime."

"Anything for you, buddy," Jet grinned and took a minute to study Zuko's face. The different colored lights did interesting things to accent his profile. He had such nice cheekbones and a strong jaw, yet the rest of his face was very soft. The scar was a harsh contrast against his other, gentler features. His mess of black hair the fell over one eye was even, dare he think it, _sexy_. He hadn't felt this way about a guy since the kid Hahn he experimented with in high school. There really was nothing stopping him from trying again. Especially now that he had a good drink or two…

_No._ Jet mentally smacked himself. He liked girls. He liked girls a lot. Girls were beautiful, curvaceous, soft, and sexy. Not to mention very, very wet when he got through with them. They wore things like tight button-up blouses, thongs, and miniskirts. They pressed their luscious breasts against his face and chest and rocked their pert backsides against his groin. Girls were _amazing_. They were the best things on the planet next to pot and cars.

But there was something about Li that sent warmth to Jet's lower belly and made his mouth water. Perhaps it was the softness of his face, the even tone of his voice. How he may have happened to have a very nice ass- especially in those tight jeans. Maybe it was even because he drove such a fucking sexy car. Whatever it was, it was turning Jet on. Or perhaps it was just the drink he had.

If he was quiet any longer the silence would get awkward, as the song was winding down. Jet shifted a bit in his seat and Zuko crossed and uncrossed his legs. Zuko sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. Smirking, Jet turned so he could look at Zuko's face and placed a hand on his arm. Spirits, did his lips have to look so soft too?

"What is it?" Zuko asked quietly, a little too buzzed to be as gruff as he normally was.

"Nothing, man, just…" Before he could stop himself or even think straight (and think _straight_ he really wanted to), Jet lifted his hand to tilt Zuko's face toward his and close the distance between them.

"Hmm?" Zuko murmured briefly in protest, trying to lazily push him away. The hand he brought up to shove Jet back hovered for a second, before settling on his shoulder and clinging onto his jacket.

Jet took the lack of objection as a good sign to continue. The hand slowly slid around to brace the back of his head and so he could run his fingers through his silky black hair. His other hand slipped up to gently scratch at the side of his neck. Zuko murmured softly, not quite responding yet. Jet then flicked his tongue out and ran it across Zuko's lower lip. His lips parted then and he allowed Jet entrance. Jet could taste the sour blue raspberry with the hint of vodka that had been part of his drink. It was tangy and delicious. With his confidence restored, Jet kissed him harder. One hand tugging at his hair while the other slid under his jacket to claw at his chest through his shirt. A soft moan escaped Zuko as he began to kiss him back with some vigor, cupping Jet's chin and scratching at him as well. They picked up speed, neither wanting to be the first to give up. Soon they were panting heatedly against each other's lips, their teeth clicking together whenever they pressed just a _little_ too much. Jet took Zuko's bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it lightly before finally pulling away to catch his breath.

"What…" Zuko panted softly. "What was that for?"

"Eh.." Jet laughed nervously. "Guess I'm a little drunk."

"I'll say…" Zuko frowned and shifted a bit. It wasn't as if he didn't like it, he just knew he _shouldn't_ have liked it. "Just…Don't do that again, alright? It's a little weird."

"You didn't push me away," Jet reminded him.

"I'm a little drunk too."

"Fine…Whatever," Jet sighed and leaned back.

"Look, I didn't mean to insult you, it's just…" Zuko tried to keep his thoughts in line. The vodka was making it difficult. "I like girls, okay?"

"Yeah, I figured."

"I can't hang out with you if you do that."

"I know. I won't. Swear. It was just the booze, dude."

"Fine."

Jet didn't want to admit that it wasn't the alcohol at all.

**~*~**

To be continued….


	4. Chapter 4

**Dead End**  
_by Kyatto_

**Chapter Four**

~*~

It was hard to believe he had been living with his uncle for over a month and still he had yet to unpack over half of his boxes. While his father was very cruel about his removal from the estate, he at least had some shred of heart left to make sure most of his stuff got to him. Zuko admitted to being very grateful for that fact. Most of the boxes were haphazardly shoved into his walk-in closet, with a few smaller ones stacked neatly in a far corner of the room. The sudden change of lifestyle greatly affected Zuko's mood and he felt no desire to unpack more than the basic necessities when he first moved in. Now, however, after his experience with Jet and the drunken make-out session that occurred in the Charger, Zuko felt like it was finally time he cleaned out his closet.

After the awkward post-kiss conversation, Jet and Zuko decided to spend the rest of the evening smoking the stash Jet kept in the glove compartment while rocking out to various techno bands he put on his MP3 player. Zuko returned to his uncle's house a sick mess, the combination of pot and alcohol not sitting too well with his system. He woke up the next morning with a blanket wrapped around him and his face in the toilet bowl. It surprised him that Iroh didn't bother to question it. He learned his lesson to watch himself when he went to those parties. Next time he was just going to order a plain Coke.

A week had past since then and Zuko took the first day off from work he got to straighten up the mess in his closet. Whoever his father had hired had taken a great deal of effort to seal the boxes to the point where they would be impossible to open. Even his car key couldn't get any of the tape to budge. Eventually he had to take a butcher's knife from the kitchen to cut the slits. Most of the boxes were clothing – pants, shirts, socks, and suits. When he lived at home he hardly paid much to attention to just how much he had. Now that he was living someplace smaller the amount of stuff he had was nearly overwhelming. It took him over an hour of sifting through clothing boxes before he found one that contained anything even remotely interesting.

It was a smaller box full of scrapbooks, photo albums, and framed photographs. Most of them were of himself and his family during various stages of his life. He found his yearbooks from elementary school through high school and even some of his school portraits. They were all fairly standard and boring, having been sent to only uppity fancy private academies his entire life. His high school yearbook in particular made him ruefully recall various memories. Around the start of his freshman year his father heard reports from his previous teachers that he had grown prone to speaking out against them in classes and willingly sparking over-emotional debates. Apparently that sort of behavior wasn't to be tolerated. In an attempt to curb such behavior, Ozai packed him up and sent his ass to a boarding school far from home. His father wouldn't take him back until he proved himself to be disciplined and obedient. He was quite possibly the least popular guy at that school because of it – he was so desperate to prove himself he spent all his time studying and being a nasty grade-grubber. Now when he looked back on it he wanted to smack himself. Why did he have to prove himself to _anyone_?

Now that it had been a few years since high school Zuko felt he could look back on his childhood with more understanding. He never bothered going to college since he knew he was next in line to inherit everything his father had. There was no need for it. So he spent a lot of his time following his father to meetings and offering input during presentations. He was a fairly good worker when he wanted to be and got a lot of respect from his father's employees. Up until the accident Ozai had a great deal of faith in him and believed he was destined to be the next face of the enterprise. While this certainly didn't please his younger sister, Azula, it was definitely the drive he had to never give up without a fight.

While he was setting aside family portraits and photos of himself posing stiffly and firmly pressed school uniforms, his cellphone buzzed. It was a text message, and at first he figured it was Jet so he was rather surprised at the name that showed up instead. It was Mai, his ex-girlfriend. They hadn't been in contact much since the accident. He was too shamed and embarrassed by what had become of him afterwards that he couldn't bear to face her. She deserved so much better than the failure he felt he had become. So the fact she texted him out of the blue was both unnerving yet surprising. Would it be worth it to answer her?

As he debated he found several pictures he had of them together. Mai was the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. He always felt she should have been a super model. Her father was the head of a smaller car company that made up for their lack of size with their extraordinary profits. She spent most of her life as a doll on display during her parents' many high society events. Azula had gone to school with her since the first grade and Zuko finally got the chance to speak to her in Middle School. Her beauty had always captivated him; especially after he hit the age where he could really appreciate what the opposite sex had to offer. The fact she harbored a crush on him since elementary filled him with joy. It wasn't long before they became one of the most talked about teenaged couples in the media. They were the future business moguls of the country.

He found a high quality picture he had taken of her when they were on a date together at a local park. She wore a tight-fitted white satin Theory button up blouse (with just enough undone to expose cleavage), a black Moschino pencil skirt over black fishnet stockings, and her sexiest pair of Miu Miu stilettos. Over it she wore a black Yves Saint Laurent blazer the way regular teenagers would carelessly throw on an old sweatshirt. Even though it was obvious everyone knew she was fabulous she had the most distracted and "bored by everything" expression anyone could imagine. It was well known that Angelina Jolie had for a while copied her image from Mai – who was known for her silky and shiny long black hair with a ruler-straight fringe just above her perfectly shaped eyebrows. She wore very little makeup other than clear lipgloss – and she didn't need to. Mai had very exotic features with her full pink lips and deep amber almond-shaped eyes. She was by far the sexiest woman Zuko had ever known…and she was his. Despite their issues he would never throw anything of her away. It would have been sacrilegious.

Upon hitting puberty Mai's family immediately plastered her image on every type of publicity their company had to offer. She was in car commercials, magazine ads, even on billboards. Even now that they had been broken up for a while Zuko still couldn't help but smirk to himself whenever he saw her on the billboard on the highway on his way to work. Yeah. He tapped that.

The two of them were inseparable while they were together. Zuko never wanted to be without her. He couldn't help but feel jealous whenever another boy would dare talk to her. Sure, it caused some tension in their relationship, but he wasn't about to let his extremely hot girlfriend be snatched away from him. You just didn't do that. Of course, he loved her for more than just her looks. Her calm, demure and even slightly apathetic nature was a good balance against how explosive and over-emotional he tended to be. She often called him a drama queen. He found her to be extremely witty and intelligent whenever they would speak, and that was definitely better than the actual super models he had met who were nothing more than ditzy, drug-addicted bimbos. She was his everything.

Rather than text her back, Zuko decided to suck it up and give her a call. "...Hello?" He lost his confidence a little when she actually bothered to pick up.

"Zuko." Her response was flat. He had no idea if she was angry or pleased to hear from him.

"Is something wrong? I just got your text and I…uh…" There was no way he was going to tell her that he just spent several minutes gawking at old photos. No way in hell.

"It's been a month, Zuko," she replied in a clipped tone. "You haven't called, texted, or even emailed me. I know you were not exactly thrilled after we broke up, but I had no idea you hated me."

"No!" He choked a little too quickly. "Of course I don't hate you! It's just…after my dad…and I thought…"

"Have I ever _cared_ about your dad? Come on, Zuko. I know there's a good brain in there somewhere." He could practically hear her eyes rolling at him. Typical Mai. But spirits, was that highly sexy.

"I'm a failure."

"Yes. Indeed you are."

"Then why do you even bother talking to me?" He chewed his lip and sighed.

"I didn't date you for over five years for nothing," Mai told him quietly. "Just because I ended our relationship it doesn't mean we can't still be friends."

"What about the sex?" Idiot! Why did he have to go and blurt that?

"Friendship, Zuko. _Friendship_," she groaned. He could be so ridiculous sometimes. "But as your friend I would be willing to pay for a hot look-alike to sleep with you, if you so wished."

"No, that's okay, I think I'll pass," he chuckled. Damn, this was awkward.

There was a moment of silence. "…Are you alright?"

"Well…" Zuko knew what she was talking about. "Yeah. I guess so. Uncle's a good guy. It's not too horrendous."

"Good…I'm glad," she said serenely. "You have the right to live happily."

"Thanks, Mai," he replied softly. "That means a lot, coming from you."

"I may not care about most things…." Mai told him, laughing to herself. "…but I still care about you."

Meanwhile, Jet was kicking himself over what happened that weekend. How could he have been so fucking stupid? He got the poor guy smashed and then totally baked. There was no way a substance virgin like that could handle all those goods at once. He had to guide the poor sick bastard home and hold his hair until his uncle got back. That on top of running into Katara was not what he was expecting at all. He would have to think of something clever to win over Li or else risk losing him to the void of his ex-girlfriend. She had her ways of making him look like a complete and utter tool.

They had dated while she was still in high school and he was going to the local automotive school. She was annoyed by the immaturity of the younger guys and wanted someone better. Cue her bumping into the tall, dark, and handsome wonder known as Jet. He was a lot more chaotic then than he was now. Back then it was all about the thrill of the ride and the dangers of whatever situations he put themselves in. Many days were spent encouraging her to ditch school to roll with him and his crew. At first she had been excited and thrilled by the idea of not being a goody-two-shoes and getting to hang out with the super cool "adults". After a while though, she began to see right through him. But that took well over a year to finally sink in.

Jet knew he could have probably done better than Katara. It wasn't as if she was all that exceptionally beautiful or anything. Her brother's girlfriend, Suki, fit that bill a whole lot more than she did. What he liked was how naïve she was and how quick to trust. For the longest time she was convinced he was perfect and could do no wrong – and it had really touched his heart in some odd way. She would follow him blindly wherever he went, not once suspecting a thing. Sokka, on the other hand, had always hated him. He claimed Jet was nothing more than a troublemaker and was out to corrupt his poor little sister. For a while most of their dates consisted of Sokka tailing them in ways that were but mere attempts at being stealthy. When it seemed that Katara really was head over heels for the guy he finally stepped back. Even still he always was quick to express his displeasure at their relationship.

One thing Jet _really_ liked about Katara was the fact after a while he could get her to do anything he wanted. They had been going steady for several months when he finally took her virginity. It had been thrilling how nervous she was. She only thought he had taken her to his room to hang out and listen to his music. It had come as a surprise when he took her by the wrists and used duct tape to bind them behind her back. As rough as he was, and even though she did try to fight him off at first, he led her to believe it was only a game. So of course she gave in. He could do no wrong, right? No one would ever know her naivety and trust in him let him get away with near date-rape. The look in her eyes when he finally took her, finally broke it, still gave him wicked chills.

When their relationship got more physical and there really wasn't a lot left to hide from each other was when things started going south. After a while, Katara's density faded and she began trying to _change_ him. At first it was the little things. He needed a different ringer for his phone, he should get new shoes, he should stop eating so much fast food. Then when it got more serious did he begin to feel it was time to kick her to the curb. He was willing to do a lot for her. Change his entire lifestyle, give up one of the few simple pleasures he wanted to partake in life? No way. So after a lengthy heated argument-turned-screaming match, he dumped her on the side of the road not far from her house and took off. She remained sour towards him ever since.

_"Is this really all you want from life?" Katara had asked him while he was giving her a ride home. "Just working on cars, smoking, and playing video games? My brother does most of that, yet he still manages to have a life."_

"I'm not telling you to do any of it," he replied gruffly. "Why should it matter?"

"I just care about you Jet," she frowned. "There's a whole lot more to life than what you're doing. Perhaps if you got out once in a while you could see for yourself."

"Thanks, but I get out enough just fine," he retorted. "What would you know? You're sixteen. You've barely even experienced life. Don't be preaching at me."

"I'll preach at you how many freaking times I want to until it gets through that thick skull of yours!" She snapped angrily. "You're **killing** yourself."

"Do you really believe all that shit you see on T.V.? Get real, Kat," he rolled his eyes. "People die from drunk driving accidents and from the chemicals in cigarettes. I don't buy artificial shit, alright?"

"It still doesn't do you any good!" Katara pressed. "All it does is make you act stupid and lazy. What sort of hardship could you possibly have that you need to inhale something to escape from it?"

"I don't like talking about it," he replied coolly.

"That's another thing!" She exclaimed, flailing her arms slightly in exasperation. "You never tell me anything about yourself. Whenever I go to your house we always go to your room or your basement. I know you have a younger brother, but what about your parents? Or anyone else? It's like you live in a ghost town."

"It's none of your damn business!" Jet snapped, his grip tensing on the steering wheel.

"You know everything about me…" She said, her tone expressing sadness. "About my dad, my brother…what happened to Mom. Yet you're still an enigma."

"And it's going to stay that way," he quipped. "Look, Kat, I'm not some deep guy, alright? I'm just me. It's all there is."

"You're never going to be able to be with me properly unless I get to know you first," Katara said a bit more firmly. "I can't be with someone I know nothing about."

"You can't be with me unless you put your nose in everything I do?"

"Pretty much…" She replied shakily. "Yeah."

He pulled the car up about three blocks from her house. "Then you won't be able to be with me, then. Get out."

"Are you serious, Jet? You want to end everything because I **care** about you?"

"You care about your little 'idea' of me and what you would rather I'd be," he told her sharply. "Not who I am right now, sitting in front of you. Out."

"…Fine. Your temper and attitude is ridiculous, you know?" Katara scoffed as she undid her seatbelt and opened the door. "At least the walk isn't far. I'll call you in an hour or two once you got baked enough to calm down or whatever."

"Don't bother!" he retorted. "And for the record, remember that one chick you used to hang with? Yue? I fucked her while you were out blowing frat boys at Uni." Jet snapped as she shut the door before he sped off, leaving her in a cloud of dust. 

A week of angry phone calls, text messages, and IM conversations shot back and forth between the two of them after that. It led to slanderous MySpace blog posts and messages, and awkwardly cryptic Facebook statuses. Katara was annoyed at not only his inability to take any kind of criticism nor even want her help, but the fact he had apparently _cheated_ on her as well. If there was one thing she hated, it was lying scoundrels. Jet was just pissed that she claimed all these things and how much she cared about him, yet couldn't seem to accept him for who he was. All of the nonsense got their friends in an uproar and it led to a bit of a virtual gang war. It ended with Katara being labeled a "childish groupie slut" and Jet a "psychotic stoner freak". In her anger, Katara made claims of how he'd beat her and do horrible things he never would have considered. Kinky sex? Of course. Cheated? Once or twice…when drunk. But he would never resort to abuse. He wasn't _that_ cruel.

Katara held animosity towards Jet ever since. Her senior year of high school she got more so into the car scene, and refused to admit it was because of him. Instead she gave all the credit to her brother, who just happened to score a good job with the local mechanic and a sweet Ford Torino. Instead of going off to college she declared herself a member of Sokka's team along with Suki and was determined to make it big in the amateur scene herself one day. Of course this meant running into Jet at events, but normally she was good about avoiding him. This recent run in was a surprise. Either she had cooled off considerably lately or the presence of Li calmed her and kept her crazy in check. Or maybe she just really badly wanted to impress Aang by not letting _her_ temper get the better of him. Whatever it was, it perplexed Jet to no end.

The fact that he suddenly had an interest in Li surprised him. Jet considered himself to be as straight as straight can be. While Katara was no super model, she was a fairly attractive female. All the other girls he had been with weren't dogs either. Other than a little bit of experimenting in high school he never considered guys. He had to admit, Li was kind of hot. With the exception of the hideous scar on his face, of course. Jet could only imagine how gorgeous he looked before whatever awful thing had happened to him. Not to mention, the guy wasn't a half-bad kisser either. Definitely someone with experience on the playing field. It made him wonder what kind of girls _he_ had been able to score in his lifetime. Man, the guy probably had some wicked stories to share!

Jet had gone up to his room and flopped back on his bed. He picked up his phone and tossed it idly back and forth in his hands. Should he call him? Send him a text message? At some point during their outing he had scored his IM name, so perhaps he could try that. He lazily sat up on the edge of his bed and leaned over to his computer. Sure enough, he was signed on and without an away message up for once. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to suck up the courage and fire him a message. What harm could it do?

**FighterJet69: (Jet noted how silly he was in high school when he made up that name)** Hey man, what you up to?  
**MerceMan:** Cleaning out my closet. That sort of shit.  
**FighterJet69:** Sorry about the other day, bro.  
**MerceMan:** I told you, it's no problem. Seriously.  
**FighterJet69:** So long as you're still cool, I'm cool.  
**MerceMan:** I'm cool.  
**FighterJet69:** Cool B)  
**FighterJet69:** …Do you want to come over and hang out at my place sometime? I got Xbox 360 and a fuck ton of games.  
**MerceMan:** Sure, you have to give me some of your tunes anyway.  
**FighterJet69:** Right! So how's tomorrow sound?  
**MerceMan:** Sounds great. I'll be there around 2. Have to help Uncle with some crap at work. Text me your address.  
**Fighterket69:** Will do.  
_User **MerceMan** has set their status to "Away"._

Jet smirked to himself as he flopped back on his bed. Perhaps there was a way he could steal another kiss from him without scaring him off. He could almost bring back the sweet tang of the blue raspberry drink on his tongue. Li was so good…too good. It might be hard to be near him again without laying a hand on him. He was going to have to work extra hard to keep his self-control. There was no way he was going to let a guy that awesome slip through his grasp. All he would have to do was talk, well, _car_.

At that moment Jet started to wonder if perhaps Li enjoyed being talked "car" to the same way he did.

Vroom vroom!

**~*~**

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

**Dead End**

_By Kyatto_

**Chapter Five**

**~*~**

It was late afternoon and Jet sat cross-legged on the oversized beanbag chair that sat to the side of the spacious living room in Longshot and Smellerbee's studio loft. Sticks of Pina Colada and Nag Champa burned in various sculpted incense holders adorning shelves and tables around the room. Along with the sweet perfumed aromas was also a haze of White Widow – the current crop the two had cut for smoking that day. It was one of the most potent, which was why they saved it for when Jet visited. They never had a party without their leader. Even if it was as simple as lounging around the living room, smoking weed and talking while VNV Nation played in the background.

Smellerbee was lounging on the deep blue overstuffed yet threadbare sofa, partially on Longshot's lap. Her real name was Beatrice or "Bee" for short. Longshot's name was actually Long – and while his was a pretty common name for his heritage, like Bee, he got his fair share of teasing in school. . The names "Longshot" and "Smellerbee" were names Jet thought up for them during their last year of junior high. Ever since they met he knew they would wind up together. The nicknames were jokes about how neither of those two could find suitable dates outside of each other. Bee was weird, and often smelled of incense. Naturally, few wanted to hang with her. Long had often yearned after those way out of his league. Of course Jet being the kind of guy he is, gave them nicknames that were both insulting and endearing. Now he didn't call them anything but.

The two were now quite a pair. Smellerbee was a petite young woman, barely above five feet even. Her chestnut-brown hair was cut in a choppy, shaggy bob. As always, she overdid the makeup to go for an eclectic look – "Raccoon eyes" (as Jet nicknamed the thick application of black eyeliner and mascara) (punk), overly powdered foundation (Goth), bright peach lipgloss (prep), and florescent green nail polish ("raver"). Both Jet and Longshot agreed she just looked like a typical stoner chick that never bothered to learn proper makeup application. She wore black skinny jeans with rips on the side held close with safety pins, black and "highlighter green" checked Vans sneakers, and an army green long-sleeved mesh top with a beat up "The Runaways" T-shirt over it. On her wrists she wore dozens of elastic bracelets with different brightly colored plastic beads called "Kandi". She collected them at parties, along with Jet and Long, only theirs were a bit more masculine in colors. Around her neck she wore a military style dogtag with her information on it "In case she was ever murdered". Long, with his carefully trimmed black hair and Asiatic features, didn't wear any makeup at all. He just wore baggy olive green cargo pants with holes at the knees; beat up graying Nikes, a slim-fit "Cascada" T-shirt that had the sleeves torn off. On his head he wore a beanie Smellerbee had gotten for him that had his name embroidered along the bottom. Smellerbee just had piercings in her earlobes, while Long had a row of piercings in the cartilage of his right ear with a small silver chain connecting them. On the muscular part of his upper left arm he had a black tribal-looking tattoo all around it, and when viewed closely were actually cleverly designed letters that spelled "Freedom Fighters" as homage to the nickname they had given their little group when they were children.

Meanwhile Jet was flopped in the beanbag, looking as effortlessly handsome as always. Compared to them he never had a problem getting a date. He was tanned from spending hours daily in the sun. The tones of his skin brought out the dark green of his eyes. His hair was a light brown shaggy mess that almost always looked as if he had just gotten up out of bed. Some days he wore eyeliner, but he always shaped his natural slim and expressive eyebrows. His attire consisted of baggy dark-wash overly distressed jeans, a pair of sneakers that were brightly colored, a tightly fitted black t-shirt with a picture of a bright blue Ford GT on the front, and black fingerless gloves. The t-shirt clung to his skin in such away that at certain angles and positions of his body it showed off the slight six-pack he was getting from the work on the cars. He had a single small gold earring in his left ear. Reasoning behind it? It was his more "sensitive" ear, and the earring made it more obvious for lovers to suck and nibble on it. He knew he was a demon for lust, but he no longer cared. At this point he was already rather baked so he lay there with a lazy grin plastered on his face.

"So, how was the monthly pilgrimage? Get anything interesting?" Jet asked conversationally, his speech a little more slowed than normal.

"Long got this new glass pipe that the guy claims is unbreakable," Smellerbee replied, reaching up from her spot perched on the edge of the sofa for the shelf closest to her, and grabbed a multicolored swirled glass pipe down and held it up for Jet to see. "Check it."

"It really won't break?" Jet's eyes widened in hazy amazement. "Bitchin'."

Longshot nodded in stoned silence, too baked to do much more to acknowledge his part of the conversation. Jet took the pipe from Smellerbee and threw it at the wall above their heads. Rather than shatter, which was what he expected it to, it bounced right back and landed a few inches in front of him.

"Told you!" Smellerbee trilled and smiled lazily from across the room.

"That's pretty hardcore," Jet nodded with a grin. He took the blue and green sculpted water pipe off the artisan steel coffee table and took a hit.

Usually when they all hung out together, Jet would get baked enough to start doing humorous impersonations and accents. Sometimes Smellerbee would make up silly songs. Longshot was a strange sort of stoner. He just got really quiet, even when the other two would burst into random bouts of laughter. This was all common behavior for when those three smoked. They all lived in a poorer area, so the schools weren't the greatest. They discovered weed at a young age. In their junior year, Longshot and Smellerbee began experimenting with growing it. They now paid for their apartment with sales to people outside the area and with money made from Smellerbee's job as clerk at a smoke shop. Of course, back in the day, Jet was the ringleader. They never smoked without him.

"Hey Jet," Smellerbee drawled after taking a hit from her homemade water pipe. "Don't you have a date with that one guy?"

"S'not a date," Jet groaned, rolling his eyes. "Just hanging out."

"You wanna regain your honor for perving on him at the Blue Dragon," Bee chuckled. "You called us not long after you both left, drunk off your ass, spilling your heart out."

"Yeah sorry I don't remember much after the shit in the car," Jet confessed, slumping further down into the beanbag. "Thought he'd be pissed."

"It's alright Jet," Bee told him soothingly, Longshot nodding in agreement. "We know you're a little fucked up after what happened with that high school bitch. Not to mention the best fuck you probably ever had was with that ass Hahn in Sociology class."

"M'not a fag…" Jet protested, his tone barely above mumbling.

"We know that," she rolled her eyes, passing the pipe to Longshot when he made a slow "grabby-hand" in her direction. "Besides, Hahn was way back in high school. Ancient history. We _all_ were experimenting back then." She was clearly referencing her brief relationship with Toph, the blind mechanic who used to go to her shop to buy cigars for her father. It didn't work out due to age issues.

"So what's that shit got to do with Li?" Jet arched a brow.

"In case you haven't noticed," Smellerbee smirked and Longshot chuckled softly, knowing what she was about to say. "You really, _really_ want to fuck him. To the point where you can't control yourself, especially when you hit the booze. You haven't described a P.O.A. this way since you were into that chick. And you've had a couple since her."

"Damn…" Jet groaned, rubbing his temples. "I _do_ want to fuck him. More than that, really… He's not a chick but damn it, he's _gorgeous_. I can't really explain it. He's got a sexy ass and a sexy ride. Fuck, I bet _he'd_ be a damn sexy ride too. Shit…"

"No popping a boner in stoned company," Smellerbee chided. "You know how hard those are to take care of when you're baked. Put the clothes back on Li… and the body back on his car, too."

Jet and Smellerbee both laughed raucously then. They all had been friends for so long they could talk about his boners the way they talked about the weather. On a day when Longshot was less stoned, the two of them would even revel Jet in tales of their bedroom activities. They knew everything Jet did, and sometimes his every thought. Ever since he came across Zuko he couldn't stop talking about him. He had become addicted.

"Well," Jet said as he gathered himself and got to his feet. "Thanks for the smoke. Good shit. Save some for me for next time. I've got to clean my place up a bit before he shows up."

"Don't tell me he's a pussy like Kitty-Kat was," Smellerbee frowned. "What, is he going to be offended by a few bongs and bottles of Smirnoff Ice scattered around?"

"Well, I don't _think_ he is as he got kinda smashed at the party. But yeah, I'd rather not offend him if alcohol is his limit." Jet explained. "He smoked with me a little, but I don't want him to think I do it all the time. He looks more like a Social Sinner. Wouldn't want him to think I was some kind of…loser."

"Well he must be a "loser" himself if he's our age and not in some fancy pants university or managing some major corporation," Smellerbee arched a brow and Longshot nodded. "You told us you're pretty sure he's loaded and just being modest about it. Guy was probably exiled from the country club or something."

"Even still! You know, if I want to d-…_fuck _him I can't scare him off, now, can I?" Jet sighed, exasperatedly. "I know what I'm doing. Let me work my magic."

"Fine then," she conceded. "Let us know if he runs out crying his little baby tears after you barely get to second base. Hell, let us know if you hit a home run too."

"…Will do, Bee," Jet deadpanned and Longshot laughed quietly.

Normally, Zuko was not one to sleep in. However, lately he had not been having the best sleep at night. Ever since the Blue Dragon, he had been having rather peculiar dreams. After his talk with Mai and time spent reveling in her sweet memory, he thought that would help his problem. The complete opposite had happened. It had made them even worse.

That morning he had been in the middle of a rather sexy dream. One involving him back in his old room at the palatial estate of his family's. He was back on his bed, clad in nothing other than a silk robe (a lame attempt to be a young Hugh Heffner). Mai was beside him; in such an outfit it would put even the classiest hooker to shame. A simple Victorian-inspired corset top with her full breasts exposed, black lace panties that were sheer enough that what was underneath was fully visible, and black fishnet knee-highs held up with garters. Her long, straight, shiny black hair fell like a sheet down her back with an even fringe across her forehead, bringing all the attention to her porcelain skin and exotically beautiful features. As it so turned out, Zuko had quite the fetish for elegant ladies in garters and lace. Her wine-red lips parted in a seductive pout, with her longer and larger than life eyelashes batting at him enticingly. His cock jumped to attention, hardening quickly at the sight of her. This being a dream, he was able to have his way with her. Subconsciously knowing this, he pinned her down and dove face-first into her breasts. While her moans sounded more like the generic squealing of the standard porn girl, they were enough to turn him on as he licked, sucked on, and fondled her soft breasts. His knee was pressed between her legs, and he could feel her dampening through her panties. Zuko slid off her and pulled her down so her face was level with his crotch. If this were the real Mai, she would have sat right back up, appalled, and stormed out. But dream-Mai instinctively knew what he wanted and tore into his robe to hungrily shove his cock practically down her throat. He groaned loudly, enjoying the damp heat around it. He thrust hard into her mouth, desperately clutching the back of her head. If this were real, this would have been the hottest sex he ever had with her.

It wasn't, though, and this was usually the part where it turned for the worse. He closed his eyes in ecstasy for a moment, and when he opened them he saw that it wasn't Mai who was pleasuring him so wonderfully with her mouth, but _Jet _who looked more than pleased to be doing it instead. What made it even more horrifying was that it seemed to turn him on even more to see Jet's head bobbing up and down between his legs instead of Mai's. Thankfully, Jet wasn't wearing the same outfit. He only had on very tight spandex briefs. Seeing more exposed skin, even on a male, seemed to just do it for Zuko. Dream-Jet happened to be a master at giving head, and soon Zuko was arching wildly and moaning, as he came hard into his grinning mouth.

Zuko awoke in a startled cold sweat to sticky-wet sheets and boxers, and his come-covered half hard cock still dribbling a little down this thigh. Thankfully, Iroh had already gone to work at the teashop so there wouldn't be question when he yet again had to do his laundry upon waking up. Groaning incredulously, he slid out of bed and grabbed a magazine from under his bed (one that was full of glamorous nude young women with breasts bigger than her heads and certainly _not_ any men) and made his way into his bathroom to make sure his cock got completely limp before he got ready for the day. Twenty minutes later he was washed up and ready to start his day. He was too scatter-brained to be anything other than casual. Baggy jeans with oversized pockets, his usual combat boots, and a "Black Sabbath" t-shirt so big and baggy it would look modest even if he slept in it with nothing underneath.

Thank the heavens his guest happened to be running a few minutes late, as Jet had barely finished getting his room ready when Zuko arrived. Pipsqueak was at the shop and The Duke at one of his little friend's houses so he wouldn't have to deal with awkwardly introducing Zuko to his family. He barely knew him, and didn't want to frighten him away from friendship with his messed up history. Katara was more of a nurturer so his hardships only fueled her need to be with him. However, he felt Zuko was the complete opposite. It would probably turn him away.

Zuko mentally cursed himself for being almost half an hour late. Before he left he apologized to Iroh for oversleeping and not heading over to the shop. Iroh, being the savior of Zuko's life these days day in and day out, merely encouraged him to enjoy his new friend and the shop could handle the crowd without him. His uncle always felt he needed proper socialization that wasn't forced. Zuko figured for fifteen minutes he could blame traffic, but thirty was genuine laziness and poor planning. While Jet wasn't Mai who was always punctual and expecting the same, he didn't want to seem flaky either. Why was the concept of friendship so difficult? Apparently two people couldn't hangout without there being stress involved.

He was just about to knock when Jet opened the door, a wide grin spread across his face. He was either stoned off his ass or just really happy to see him. Perhaps both. "Hey there! Welcome to my humble abode."

"…Thanks," Zuko arched a brow but gave him a smirk of amusement. When he got all the way in he took off his shoes and hung his jacket on one of the empty hooks.

"Wow, you really are a classy dude, Li," Jet chuckled, watching his behavior. "Usually I have to yell at people to do that."

"Shall I put everything back on to give you the pleasure of doing so?"

Jet was about to say something along the lines of 'If you wanted to please me you'd take everything _off_' but thought better of it. "Nah, that's okay. Shall we head up to my room?"

Zuko let Jet lead the way past the living room and kitchen to the staircase. He noticed several packages from car part dealers stacked around, along with various children's toys scattered through the rooms. Was his entire family a bunch of mechanics? And did he have younger siblings? Or worse, was Jet a _father_? Apparently telepathic when he was coming off a high, Jet picked up on Zuko's concern.

"Don't worry, I never sprogged. That's just my kid brother's stuff. He's at his friend's house so he won't bother us."

Nodding, Zuko followed Jet up the stairs and down the hall. Pictures of cars littered the walls, along with the occasional tastefully framed photograph. Most of them of a little boy, but there were a few that looked dated, showing an infant with an older child. He could only assume the kid was Jet. It perplexed him, however, that there were no signs of a mother or father. He gave him the benefit of the doubt by assuming they were just modest people who would rather pay attention to their children. Something he wished his parents had done.

"This is it," Jet announced when they came to his room. "My own little bachelor's pad."

"Not bad," Zuko commented as he looked around, trying to find somewhere to sit. "Got any chairs or…?"

"Just lay back on the bed, man, it's all yours," Jet smirked as he locked the door. "I've got my desk chair. I always let my guests get all the comfort."

"…Alright," Zuko felt uneasy but sat down on the bed anyway. He jumped when he felt the water inside the mattress ripple and slosh around underneath his rear end from the impact. "…Is this a waterbed?"

"Sure is," Jet smirked. "Best kind of bed there is."

"Bet you get a good night's sleep on this thing," Zuko lay back against the pillows and crossed his arms behind his head as he settled into a comfortable position.

"That and then some," Jet replied. "It's also good for some pretty interesting sex." …Shit, did he give himself away already?

Luckily, Zuko was a little too dense. "I take it you took Katara for quite a few trips on this thing."

Thank you, spirits! "Oh yeah. She got quite a kick out of it, trust me. Girl couldn't sleep properly for days at a time."

"So, tell me how all this racing shit works. It's more than parties I take it."

"Oh!" Right! That was how they met in the first place. "Basically, people who drive do the racing. And then they usually have mechanics and managers who specialize in them and their cars. Sometimes they're both. I may love to drive, but I'm shit at those things these days. I'd love to help somebody else out though."

"Is that why you're so interested in me?" Zuko queried curiously. Nobody ever specifically wanted him for anything before.

"Well…yeah!" Jet laughed. "Dude, come on. You're _incredible_! You could totally kick all their asses out there. Even Azzy, and she's been the champ for the last couple of years."

"Azzy?" Zuko arched a brow.

"Azula," Jet explained. "She's the daughter of some multibillionaire. Been driving since birth, apparently."

Zuko almost choked. Fuck, his _sister_? "You don't say… I'd have to think about it, honestly."

"Come on, Li! Now is not the time to be modest!" Jet rolled his eyes. "You're the best fucking thing I've ever seen, okay? And I want you to do it. I _want _to be your manager and your mechanic. I'd bend over backwards for you!"

Face flushing for a moment at the other implications to what he just said, Zuko rolled over and gave him his back. "…It's complicated."

"Li…?" No response. Zuko just lay there, breathing. "Come on, Li…Don't make me go over there…"

Still no real response. Only an apathetic grunt.

"That's it I'm coming over there and invading your personal space," Jet declared as he got up and sat on the edge of the bed. "Tell me what the fuck is up."

"It's complicated, alright?" Zuko said bitterly, not turning to look at him. "My life sucks. A lot. I'm not sure I'm ready for this kind of thing. It's really overwhelming, okay?"

"Everyone's lives suck a bit, Li," Jet told him. "And yeah, it is a pretty big thing. But you'll be amazing at it. I know it. And it'd make us both filthy fucking rich and then some. Azula has ties, and they award the winners of big races with big bucks."

"So _that's _why you want me to do this shit," Zuko growled, glaring behind him. "For the fucking money!"

"No!" Jet gasped, realizing what he might have implied. "That's not it at all! Shit, Li, do you really have to make this so difficult? I just, really want you to do it. Because…I like hanging out with you. And I think it'd be a lot of fun."

Zuko thought about what he had said and briefly reflected on the dreams he had been having. What if deep, deep down, he wanted something more from Jet? Something more than friendship? On the other hand, he just hadn't had much attention lately, especially that kind of devotion. Perhaps he was confusing desire for friendship with a desire for romance or intimacy. But that wouldn't explain so many amazing sex dreams that turned around to involve him. Most of him blamed the kiss in the car. He had actually enjoyed it a little too much. And now he realized it wasn't because of the alcohol. Zuko found Jet to be kind of sexy, in a masculine way. And as much as he hated the idea of being attracted to another man, he found it sensuous. But unless Jet had been lying about alcohol turning him into a horn dog, there was no way he'd be into it.

"Li, if you don't turn around I'll have to resort to touching you," Jet stated teasingly. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who enjoys physical contact."

Wanna bet? Zuko smirked, but still refused to budge.

"For spirits' sake, Li, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to coerce me into something," Jet chuckled, trailing a fingertip along his side. "You're acting like a fucking girl."

"Whatever," Zuko faked apathy.

"Alright then you leave me no other choice!" Jet declared. He got like this when he hung out with Long and Bee and they were playing around like this too. But to them, it was all fun and games. Nothing serious was meant by it when he grabbed their asses…Except for now. And it was Zuko's ass he had grabbed…and was now massaging. Damn, he had a nice ass. Shit. Why did he have to do that?

Zuko bit his lip to keep his gasp form being audible. Something was oddly arousing by the way Jet was groping his backside. His hand was lightly exploring the mound as a whole before not quite gently cupping and squeezing either side of it and running his thumb down along the seam of his jeans. If he moved his hand any further in a certain direction he would have wound up in heated territory. Sighing, he turned around to face him.

"Jet…" Zuko sat up slightly, bracing himself with one arm. He looked down at the bedspread, hair in his eyes at an attempt to hide the fact he was trying not to flush.

"Hm?" Jet shifted, alarmed by Zuko.

"I'm…" He chewed his lip and paused to breathe quietly. "I'm really, really confused right now. Okay?"

"…Yeah," Jet sighed admittedly. "I am a bit too."

"I do really, really, _really _like girls," Zuko told him, voice barely above a whisper. "A lot."

"…As do I. Seriously."

"But…" Zuko picked his head up then, his cheeks the tiniest bit pink and his bottom lip swollen from having been bitten so much. There was a pleading look in his eyes. "When I said that if you…did stuff…again, I wouldn't hang out with you anymore. I think…Yeah. I might have been lying a little."

Jet's heart almost skipped a beat. He flashed a Cheshire-cat grin, leaning in to press his forehead gently against Zuko's and peer into his eyes. "I'm glad."

It was the simplest of gestures that Zuko appreciated most. Mai was never one to explicitly display her affection. She would give him the occasional meaningful glance or stealthily clutch his wrist when they walked together in public. Other couples tumbled over each other on park benches and in dressing rooms at department stores. Zuko, however, preferred subtlety. He let Jet's eyes meet his and for the first time since they met he was amazed at the brilliant, gleaming shade of green they were. Up close they were the color ivy leaves right around the pupil and more of an olive-to-moss color towards the iris. Long fluttering dark brown lashes didn't take away from their beauty.

It was a little uncomfortable for Jet to be stared at so intently. But the flicker of a smile that briefly crossed the other man's lips quickly settled his nerves. He felt like he was being studied. Katara wasn't like this at all. There were no mysteries with her. She let him know right away exactly how she felt and the idea of subtly was lost on her at times. All Zuko had to do was look at him and he just _knew_. His deep gold eyes glinted with some deep hidden meaning Jet was determined to figure out.

Zuko fell back against the bed as Jet pressed against him, straddling his hips. Their mouths met almost instantaneously. This kiss was far less awkward and a lot more forceful than the alcohol-influenced one had been. Jet fueled by a long-felt desire, and Zuko by just wanting to sort his feelings out. There was a lot more tongue, a lot more teeth, and a lot more heat. Zuko's bottom lip almost had puncture marks from how hard Jet was biting it. Jet groaned into his mouth as Zuko grabbed roughly onto Jet's ass and groped at him far more aggressively than he thought he was capable of. In the background Jet had turned his computer speakers on and Lady Gaga's "LoveGame" blared, it's steady beat sending vibrations through the bed frame and timed perfectly to their rapid heartbeats. (Jet would not be the first male to boldly declare his infinite love for the fierce Lady Gaga and her catchy-yet-sexy tunes, as Zuko was secretly rather fond of her as well.)

Jet's breath hitched and he let out a sharp gasp as Zuko tilted his head and captured his earlobe between his teeth. His tongue found the stud and he nibbled on the sensitive flesh. Hands shaking from arousal, Jet none too gently tugged up Zuko's shirt to expose his stomach. His hands went straight for his chest, raking his nails down his well-toned abdomen. Low groans escaped them; Zuko tucked rogue strands of Jet's hair away from his ear so he could work it with his mouth. Shivers wracked Jet's body, and he could feel his erection throb. He had been with numerous talented ladies, but this was the quickest it had taken Jet to get aroused beyond all comprehension of the world around him.

Just as Jet was trailing lovebites down Zuko's neck towards his collarbone, Zuko blew a hot breath in his ear and whispered, "Do you suck dick?"

An aroused hiss came from Jet's lips and he reached down to harshly grab the hot bulge in Zuko's jeans. "Hm…Perhaps."

Jet could feel Zuko's smirk and then light fingertips ghosting over his own erection before roughly squeezing Jet's ass. "_Suck mine_," Zuko demanded, his tone was gruffer laced with need. He bit Jet's earlobe hard then, earning a small whine. "Suck me off with that hot mouth of yours."

If Jet wasn't rock hard before, he certainly was now. Normally _he_ was the one dishing the dirtytalk, melting his lovers into putty in his hands. But as he discovered, Zuko had a sharp bite (both physically and figuratively) when he was horny, and _holy shi_t was it one of the sexiest things ever. He answered with a bite on the spot where his neck and shoulder met hard enough to leave a dark bruise before backing up and leveling his head with his button and zipper. He peered up at Zuko and smirked, idly trailing his fingertips along the seam of his jeans in a teasing manner.

"_Get to it!_" Zuko growled, grabbing the back of Jet's head and forcing it down, holding it in place. His nails scraped against the nape of his neck. "If you want to fucking fag it up with me, be a _proper _fag and take my dick down your throat."

_Shit_, Jet never realized how fucking hot being manhandled and demeaned was when he did it. So that's why the chicks were all over his cock when he did that to them (out of habit of being a typical stoner douchebag of course); it was so fucking sexy he didn't care about his dignity anymore. At this point Zuko could punch him the face and call him a pussy shit-eating homo bastard and he'd just get hard from the fact Zuko had touched him at all. Even still, and despite the raging hard on between his legs, this was the most thrilling thing he had experienced in a long time.

Jet licked along the seam of Zuko's jeans, not minding the taste of the denim fabric. "I didn't hear a _please_."

"Fucking hell," Zuko cursed, much too horny to put up with such nonsense. "You only wish this wasn't been shoved into your _ass_." He used his free hand to undo the button and zipper to his jeans and tug his hard, hot cock out through the opening in his boxers. "Now fucking _suck it_."

Jet didn't need to be ordered again and let Zuko tighten his grip on his head as he forced his erection into his mouth. He could feel it pulse against his tongue as he began sucking on it, bobbing his head slowly and applying pressure to the sensitive underside. Zuko let out a low groan and arched his hips. This felt better than his dream. Because in real life Jet didn't feel like a well-trained porn store or like his own right hand. He was hotter, and wetter, and his tongue did something oh so right when it swirled around the head. While Jet's inexperience was obvious as he didn't do much other than lick the underside and suck the tip, it seemed he was clever enough to know when to apply the right amount of pressure and where. Zuko figured if their gay thing was going to continue, he would have plenty of time to properly train Jet in the fine art of giving him head. Something Mai never let him do but found he rather enjoyed.

Zuko's moans and hair pulling were all the encouragement Jet needed to keep going. The only experience he had with another man had involved handjobs, but he had been on the receiving end of fellatio enough to know and be able to figure out what felt good. With one hand he clawed at Zuko's inner thigh and with the other he fondled his balls- the same way he instructed the girls to when they sucked him off. He moaned around the throbbing organ in his mouth, grinding against the bed to get himself the slightest hint of relief. It amused him because originally he had wanted to be the one on the receiving end, but thought being a gentleman was the most surefire way to get Zuko to do it – if he wanted to. However, being the one giving head didn't turn out so bad either. If only because Zuko was being really fucking sexy about it. Sexy enough that Jet didn't care that he was being treated like the high school slut in the back of a parking lot.

When Zuko started pushing his head to get him to take it deeper down his throat, gasping and groaning as dignifiedly as humanly possible when in such a state, Jet could tell he was getting close. Zuko arched his hips and held Jet's head in place as he nearly choked him for a second. "Damn it, Jet… I'm going to fucking _come_ in your mouth. And you're going to swallow it…"

Ohhh baby! Did stoic, dower Li act like this while fucking his girlfriend too? Maybe they weren't so different after all. Jet found the thought more attractive than the hottest chick he had ever seen. Before they fell back on the bed, he had been bashful, embarrassed, awkward and almost…cute. But now he was the very definition of a sexy bastard. It turned him on more than he could ever imagine.

"Oh…_shit!_" Zuko gasped, digging his nails into Jet's scalp. "I'm fucking coming…"

Jet's face flushed as he felt his hot come shoot down his throat. He'd tasted his own on accident a few times, and didn't mind it, but he _really_ didn't mind what he had just been forced to taste. In fact, he was sure now he could take it again and again if it meant Zuko would be his partner and continue hanging out with him. He pulled himself off Zuko's cock and licked his lips, looking up at him as he sat up. The bed sloshed a few times before readjusting to the weight and mass change. Zuko lay back, panting slowly, his shirt ridden up exposing his pale well-defined abdomen. Damn it he looked hot.

"So…" Jet said after a minute. "What was that about?"

"Oh…" Zuko's face flushed. "Sorry…I don't normally get so into it…"

"No," Jet shook his head. "It's okay, man. It was fucking hot. I didn't think you had it in you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"I'm sure," Jet nodded, glancing meaningfully at the scar for the first time. "Speaking of, how exactly did you get…"

Zuko interrupted him by roughly pushing him back on the bed. "I take it you want me to get you off."

"I-uh…Yeah…If you want…" Jet blinked, surprised. He knew he was avoiding the question, but let it slide. If it meant he was going to get off, Zuko could avoid whatever else. Jet tended to be a self-obsessed asshole like that.

"I'll just jerk you off," Zuko smirked, reaching down to hastily undo Jet's fly and tug him out. "It's the least I could do."

After that hot round of head Jet couldn't even bring himself to shoot some dirtytalk back at Zuko. All he could do was lay back and let him masterfully work his hard cock with his had. Zuko's mouth met his throat and he nipped and sucked on his pulse as he stroked him. Jet groaned and thrust into his palm, grip tight on the bedspread. It didn't take long until Jet came hard, moaning a loud '_Li!' _as his come shot out all over Zuko's hand and his own stomach. For a moment Zuko looked at his hand like he wasn't sure what to make of come on it that wasn't his own, before licking it off slowly.

"Hm…" He considered for a moment. "Maybe I will suck you off next time."

"Next time?" Jet asked, arching a brow.

"This is why you had me come over right?" Zuko shrugged. "You wanted this to happen."

"Well… I wanted to convince you to be my partner and join the car scene," Jet told him truthfully. "But yeah… I guess I kinda wanted this too. You're really something, Li. I just can't get you out of my mind."

"Yeah,' Zuko nodded and sighed, leaning back against the wall. "Same here. Though not really so much the gay thing… That will take getting used to. I've never really done any of this before."

"I thought you had a girlfriend or something?" Jet asked.

"Yeah, but she was more of a missionary girl, you know?" Zuko glanced off to the side. "I'm sure you know the type. She gives you a quick handjob, may let you eat her out a little and then it's the standard in and out business until either she's done first or until you both are and that's it."

"Sounds like a frigid bitch," the other boy frowned.

"No! She's amazing, really. We just weren't an overly sexual couple. So yeah… All this is kinda new."

"Well judging by the way your hand works, you have quite the experience with the two dimensional ladies then?" Jet couldn't help but crack an amused smile.

"Yeah…." Zuko sunk down, ears turning pink. "Guess you could say that."

"Then you'll love the box I have in my closet," Jet grinned. "I have authentic nudes of Halle Berry."

"Show me," Zuko smirked.

"Only if you'll agree to be my driver and we start taking your McLaren around first thing."

"You think after what we just fucking did I'd say no? _Count me in._"

"All right," Jet laughed. "She's all yours!"

**~*~**

Meanwhile miles away behind an oversized ranch house overlooking a vineyard, was an Olympic-sized swimming pool. At the poolside were three young women. Each clad in their own style of very expensive couture swimming attire looking every inch the extremely wealthy bitches they were. Outside the pool on a bamboo loungechair sipping a Blue Hawaiian was Azula. She wore a simple dark red halter bikini with a plunging neckline. Her long dark brown hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, with two shorter pieces framing her delicate china doll face. Bright gold eyes were hidden behind oversized rose-tinted aviators. A bright red Sony Vaio was open on her lap and her blood-red painted lips were pursed in disproval.

"So the buzz from the Blue Dragon are up, ladies," she announced demurely.

"Oh?" Another young woman was to the side of Azula, sunbathing on an oversized beach towel. She was far more voluptuous than her two friends. Her baby pink bikini was more string than actual bikini with only small triangles covering the most vital parts and the top itself held together with a gold heart-shaped clasp in front. Her wavy light brown hair cascaded in waves down her back with perfectly cut bangs shaping her face. Her cheeks were dusted with light glitter and her lips were plumped with pearly pink gloss. She glanced over at Azula; batting her heavily mascara-d lashes of her brilliant silver eyes. "What did we miss?"

"Not much to be honest," Azula shrugged. "At least for you, Ty Lee."

"What's the hottest gossip?" Mai queried from where she was cooling off by sitting partway in the water. Her suit was a modest form-fitting burgundy one piece with gold chains from straps. Long straight black hair was pulled back in a neat bun. "Other than the bald kid with the Tiburon."

"Let's see…" Azula tapped long French manicured nails to the keyboard. "Some guy had shown up with a McLaren supposedly…"

"Sounds sexy," Ty Lee smirked.

"Okay, this works," Azula looked intently at the screen. "That asshole Jet had showed with a guy he picked up by his shop. Newbie. Drives a black McLaren. This one girl is gushing about how much hotter he would be without half his face messed up with a…" She cut herself off.

"Messed up with what?" Ty Lee blinked.

"No!" Mai gasped, alarmed. "You don't think?"

"I think it is," Azula frowned. "It's _Zuko_."

"But what would your brother be doing there?" Ty Lee asked curiously. "I thought he got shipped off to live with that funny uncle of yours."

"He did," Mai confirmed on Azula's behalf. "He called me from there."

"You all remember how nasty he is with that car of his," the queen bee reminded them. "I am actually not all surprised he finally found his way onto the scene."

"What are we going to do?" Ty Lee pouted. "You're not going to let him take over are you?"

"Hah!" Azula cackled. "Don't make me laugh! We'll squash him like the insect he is. Won't we, _Mai_?"

"Yeah…" Mai nodded with a bored sigh. "He'll get whooped or whatever."

"Ladies!" Azula declared as she snapped her laptop shut. "Get dressed. Ty Lee, get your Maybach. Mai, the Porsche. I'll call the Dai Lee and have them ready the CCX. We've got some practicing to do. We're not going to let Zuko steal our spotlight because we're sloppy!"

"Yes Azula," the other two girls chirped as they grabbed their belongings and padded towards the house.

"Stupid, stupid brother," Azula grumbled as she wrapped a towel around her waist and slid her computer into her oversized tote. "Didn't I teach you when we were kids not to mess with me _on my own turf_?"

**~*~**

**To be continued…**


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